


Conversion

by Glitter_Lips



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: 50s au, Alternate Universe - Human, Glavatron and Jhiaxus are bad dudes, M/M, Period-Typical Racism, Physical Abuse, Prowl POV, Prowl is such a good mom to Bluestreak, Psychological Torture, Segregation, Self-Acceptance, and Jazz is Bumblebee's dad, concept of god as an abstract symbol rather than control-issue sky man, conversion therapy, just mentors, not really - Freeform, religion used as a method of manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-05 12:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14044062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Lips/pseuds/Glitter_Lips
Summary: Prowl finds himself sent to a conversion therapy where he hopes he can be changed to fit God's expectations, but a boy with a blinding smile helps him realize that love is limitless and the only expectations he must achieve are his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd so if there are any grammatical errors or character inconsistencies feel free to let me know! This is my first transformers fanfic and the idea behind it is very personal for me. Not only am I gay, but so was my grandfather... in the 50's/60's. He was forced through conversion therapy for religious reasons and underwent various horrors including electroconvulsive therapy. I, unfortunately, was never able to meet him, but seeing my own father break down sobbing when gay marriage was finally legalized because of the pain of watching his dad tortured to the point of being unable to recognize his own family really stuck with me. I feel as though conversion therapy is talked about much and many people don't quite understand what it is, so I decided to research it and write a story based on what happens at these camps. Not everything in this story is terribly realistic, but there were certain adjustments I had to make to get characters I wanted in here. Everything in this is fictional, but based on real events. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. :)

Prowl looked in his bathroom mirror.

He took in his platinum blonde, cleanly cut hair. His icy blue, heavy, and wet-with-tears eyes. His pale skin, marked red by tear tracks. He glared at his reflection.

“Why?” He whispered to the boy in the mirror. The boy his family hated. The boy God hated.

The boy he hated.

A deep sigh escaped him as he pushed back more tears. He almost never cried, barely allowed himself to linger over his emotions, but today had been enough to break him. He rubbed his shaking hands over his eyes, wishing it would all go away. Wishing that he could just go back to before he figured out why he had never had a girlfriend, why he had never wanted a girlfriend. 

He had prayed to God every night, begging for Him to erase his mind and soul of these impure thoughts. He had prayed so, so hard. Hopeless and scared, he had gone to his church priest to try to save himself from damnation and a downward spiral into sin. His Father had listened dutifully.

He reassured Prowl that he could be saved and his sins could be forgiven. When the priest asked if he had told his parents, cold fear shot through Prowl’s heart as he shook his head. Nodding his head, the holy Father offered to tell them for him, but Prowl shook his head again. He knew he had to be the one to confess to his mother and father, he owed that to them. 

Now Prowl lightly touched at the bright red hand mark on his cheek, having come from his mother, while his father’s face morphed from confusion to anger and finally settled to a deep sadness. Immediately after striking her son, his mother had started to sob. Prowl apologized in monotone and held back his tears as he fled to the bathroom at as normal a pace as he could manage. 

He continued to look in the mirror, disgusted with the image reflected back at him. He almost wanted to laugh. He had been so perfect, straight A’s, good friends, went to church every Sunday, did all the chores his parents asked of him and more. 

Maybe God had been trying to test him. He had clearly failed.

He looked himself in the mirror for what felt like hours, jumping when he heard a light knock on the door. 

He quickly composed himself and slowly opened the door. 

“Yes?” He asked calmly, his face a mask of indifference. 

“We’d like to have a chat with you in the family room,” he heard his father say with an undertone of a threat were he not compliant. His father’s gaze was worried and angry at the same time, burning holes through Prowl.

He nodded his head, never losing eye contact or his impassive expression. 

Prowl followed after his father into the humbly decorated living room and saw his mother sat on their floral print couch. She was talking to someone on their rotary phone and still quietly crying between sentences. His father sat down next to his mother and held her as she talked. Prowl stayed stood in the middle of the space, looking anywhere but his parents. His eyes landed on the beautifully cross-stitched piece on their wall which read “No God, No happiness. Know God, Know happiness.”

Prowl did not feel happy.

“Thank you, Father,” Prowl heard his mother say as she hung up the phone. She took a deep breathe in an attempt to calm herself. 

“Prowl,” she started softly, “I apologize for hitting you.” She nearly broke into tears again.

“I forgive you, mother,” Prowl said, still monotone. He wasn’t lying, he just simply couldn’t force himself to let his guard down at that moment.

She sighed deeply. “I just got off of the phone with the Reverend. He has advised us to try conversion therapy at a nearby summer camp.” She began to sob again, not wanting to believe all of this was happening.

Prowl’s stomach dropped and his mask slipped into one of fear. “You are sending me away?” He couldn’t help it when his voice cracked slightly on the last word.

His father had begun comforting his mother again. “It’s not that we want to son, we just want to do what’s best for you and our family. We want to save you from this path of sin and lead you back to God, but we can’t do it ourselves.” His father tried to explain.

Prowl clenched his jaw and nodded. “Excuse me,” he forced out as he fast-walked to his room and shut the door to cry without interruption. He knew his parents were doing the right thing, but it hurt all the same.

Prowl finished packing and zipped his backpack after the worst month of his sixteen years of life. He had received too many hateful or pitiful looks to count. Heard the word “faggot” tossed around by unknown sources at every turn. Ran home a few times in tears, unable to handle the evil accusations and embarrassments from teachers and students alike. He was almost glad to be leaving.

There hadn’t been much to pack considering he wasn’t allowed to bring his own clothes, as they would be provided, and all books, writing utensils, or any other form of entertainment were restricted. All he had was his toothbrush, hairbrush, deodorant, water canteen, and snacks for the drive.

He slung the bag onto his shoulders and mentally prepared for where he was about to go. As he walked through the door, he immediately heard his crying mother, a very common appearance in the household as of late. He cleared his throat, face void of emotion and a thousand scenarios running through his head. No one he knew had ever gone through a conversion camp so he had no knowledge to base his fears off of, but he had them nonetheless. 

His mind was running a mile a minute as he went through every possible situation and circumstance he could to prepare himself. He envisioned hundreds of different locations and building set-ups, mapped out possible techniques or tactics that they would use to help him, imagined the faces and personalities of the camp counselors and fellow campers. Every few minutes as they got closer to their destination, Prowl would build his theories off of what he observed around him, taking in every detail to try to assess where they were going and what it might be like there.

The ‘56 Buick turned onto a bumpy dirt road after hours of driving, confirming that they would be in a very rural setting, or at least he was 90% sure of it. He then saw a barb-wired fence far in the distance, making his heart jump into his throat. ‘ _ Please don’t let it be a prison-like scenario’  _ he prayed, having internally calculated that to being the very worst of circumstances. 

As they got closer, he saw that the buildings beyond the fence were made of wood logs. This calmed him slightly, at least they weren’t cement. From what he could tell as far away as they still were was that there was a large main building and a few smaller ones in the distance, but he couldn’t make out how many.

Finally, they reached the entrance and the gate opened as they drove inside. They were greeted by a man with a clipboard who Prowl’s mother handed a check for the hefty fee to. The man wrote down the information his mother gave to him on his clipboard. Name, age, sex, etc.

The man waved them in to continue driving through the gate and into the unmarked parking lot made of gravel and sandy dirt. All three stepped out of the car and silently made their way to the large log building with double doors and a very homey, family-friendly look to it. When they stepped inside it smelled like the smoke from the fire burning in the stone fireplace on the far end of the room. It was warm and the light was glow and soft. Prowl calmed at the environment but didn’t let himself completely relax. There were still plenty of scenarios he could think of where this could go very south, very fast.

There were two men sitting next to each other in a large circle of metal foldable chairs, some of the chairs across from them occupied by young boys around Prowl’s age. The larger of the two men spoke. “Take a seat, boy. Parents, you may leave,” he said in a kind voice that sent shivers up Prowl’s spine. The man did not seem to be genuine at all in his sweetness and his stance and general aura screamed menacing. Prowl took a deep breathe, convincing himself he was being ridiculous and there was nothing to be afraid of.

He hoped.

His mother’s eyes filled up with tears once again and she went to give her son a hug goodbye. “Ah, ah,” the counselor stopped her with a finger in the air. “An overbearing mother who encourages feminine acts in a boy is one of the things that inspires your son’s homosexual behaviors. Do not attempt such girlish activities with him until you can be sure he is cured of this disease.” 

His mother’s arms lowered slowly and she nodded her head and turned with a quivering lip, her husband holding her as they left the building. Prowl clenched his jaw and his eyes stung but he remained as seemingly uncaring as he could. He was tense as his body could go as he sat in a chair as far from the man and his quiet companion as possible. The group sat in silence as more and more young boys trickled in. Prowl continued running through scenarios and solutions with the new information he had gathered. He analyzed each and every new arrival in build, potential threat or ally, and other possible complications. 

He didn’t let it show on his face, but he was very shocked to see a young girl walk into the room. Her head was shaved and she had a bored and sulky look on her face. She had a very strong build and even though she was short, Prowl was sure he couldn’t win in a fight with her unless he had some sort of great advantage. When her parents attempted to hug her, the counselor did nothing to stop the action, but the girl shoved off the affection with a glare. Prowl documented the action as something to consider in his analysis of her.

More and more arrived with varying expressions of anger, sadness, fear, or hopelessness. There were a few more females, but not many. 

As the minutes passed, people were coming in less and less. Just when Prowl thought there would be no more arrivals, a boy with dark, smooth skin and a giant, blinding smile walked in alone. Prowl was struck by his beauty and immediately reprimanded himself for it even as he couldn’t take his eyes off the young man. He had long, dark hair in a whole slew of tiny braids, which were then all pulled back into a low ponytail. He had long limbs, but seemed he would be a few inches shorter than Prowl. He looked in shape although not terribly muscular and, his smile. God, his smile was like the sun itself. It seemed to brighten the room and lift all of the worries from Prowl’s heavy shoulders.

“Sit,” the main man said darkly. The quiet one beside him seemed to be analyzing the boy with an assessing gaze and his arms crossed.

“You got it, boss man,” the boy said as he plopped down in a chair near Prowl. He sat slouched with his legs wide and his arms draped across the top of the chair, smile still plastered in place. The counselor growled but made no other comment.

As the time hit noon, the massive clock above the fireplace let out a loud chime. 

“My name is Galvatron, but you will call me ‘sir’ at all times, no exceptions,” the larger man said as a slight smirk grew on his face. “Welcome to camp.” 

He sounded far too sadistic for Prowl’s liking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: lots of violence in this one.

“This is my second in command, Cyclonus,” the man sitting next to Galvatron gave a single nod. “You will call him ‘sir’ at all times, no exceptions. Is that clear?” The teens around the room gave slight nods.

“Is that clear?!” Galvatron boomed out, making everyone jump besides the strong and silent Cyclonus.

“Yes!” Was the chorusing sound of most of the startled campers. 

“Good,” Galvatron said, at a normal voice level again.

“Now, I’d like us all to introduce ourselves. As we go around, tell us all your name and why you are here,” Galvatron said with a sickening smile on his face making Prowl’s stomach twist tightly into a hundred knots.

Galvatron stood with his hands behind his back and his shoulders squared. “I’ll begin, as I already said, my name is Galvatron and I am here to push you all from your lives of sickening, savage behaviour to that of a life of a proper human being.” His tone ended low and harsh with his sentence.

“My name is Cyclonus and I am here to assist Galvatron with whatever he needs.” Cyclonus spoke in a deep voice and kept his face a mask of disinterest. 

“Thank you Cyclonus, now you,” Galvatron walked past his right hand man to the young man several chairs in the clockwise direction.

The boy’s eyes widened slightly and he swallowed heavily. “Uh, my name is Bluestreak. I’m here because I, uh, was caught with a boy, well, not necessarily caught, because we weren’t really hiding it; although I suppose we should have; my mother said I should be ashamed, but I’m not and she got mad at me, so she sent me here, so I think I’m here to learn to-”

“Enough!” Galvatron’s voice boomed throughout the room as the boy let out a squeak and flinched away. Without another word Galvatron moved on to his next victim, the girl with a shaved head and fiery glare.

“And you?” The sick but sweet tone was back.

With her arms crossed the small girl straightened up in her chair. “My name is Arcee and I’m here because I like to fuck girls and-”

She was cut off as a backhand slap from Galvatron made her fall off her chair. She covered her cheek with a hand and turned a vicious expression towards the horrible man standing above her. Prowl was completely horrified. A man should never hit a woman. The comment made by the girl was of course very disrespectful but not nearly to the extent of deserving corporal punishment. How could this man lead them back to God when he was like the Devil? Prowl instantly filled to the brim with dread and hopelessness as he looked forward to the worst summer of his life.

Arcee quickly stood up to throw a punch at the mighty Galvatron. He dodged the attack but was still knocked slightly on the edge of his jaw. He growled, grabbing the poor soul by her face and lifting her off her feet. She held onto his wrist, digging her nails into his skin and kicking wildly to try to take out her attacker. He threw her hard onto the floor making her hit her head and left arm on the ground. A yelp escaped her and she curled into herself face down.

“Cyclonus. Take the bitch to a medic.” Prowl’s entire body felt hot with fury and simultaneously ice cold with fear making him completely unable to move. Cyclonus carefully tried to take the girl into his arms but was pushed off by the stone faced, but clearly in agony, Arcee. She stood straight, cradling her arm and took a step forward, almost falling forward again before Cyclonus caught her and swiftly lifted her into his arms, carrying the strong and ashamed young woman out the doors.

Galvatron turned his hard gaze to the next in the group and many more were introduced. Most weren’t terribly interesting and the monster who called himself Galvatron remained relatively calm until it was the turn of a tall, slim, and handsome young man with an ego that Prowl could physically feel before he even opened his mouth. 

“My name is Starscream and this one next to me is my dear twin sister Slipstream,” he said as gestured to an equally physically perfect girl next to him.

“I did not ask you to introduce her, only yourself,” Galvatron said with a warning tone.

“Yes, well, I am the better diplomat of the both of us and have a far grander stage presence,” Starscream said in a sassy tone. Prowl made the immediate observation that this boy was either horribly stupid or dangerously brave. 

The remark earned him a kick in the ankle from his sister and a warning step forward from Galvatron.

Starscream continued on with a quaver in his voice but a false confidence that was impressive. “We are here because our Jesus crazy little brother, Sunstorm, turned us into the authorities - I mean, parents.” A dark haired boy snickered at Starscream's “mistake” and Galvatron’s gaze shot to him.

“Is something funny to you?” He growled. 

“What? Oh no, sorry sir I was just-” 

“Don’t mind Skywarp,“ Starscream interrupted. “He hasn’t half a brain to know what’s funny and what isn’t. In fact, he barely knows his finger from his nose, I should know.” He finished with a flirtatious wink to Skywarp whose eyes had widened and begun to fill with despair. 

Having taking a moment to contemplate the sexual connotations of the phrase, Galvatron clenched his fists and turned a deadly scowl to the quivering Starscream.

The young boy lifted his hands slowly, “I-I’m sorry, that was stupid of me to say, please forgive me sir it won’t happen agai-” he was punched hard in the face, letting out a grunt as he hit the floor. No surprise there. 

“Stop your groveling,” Galvatron snarled as he kicked Starscream hard in the stomach making him cry out and dry heave. Slipstream, Skywarp, and another boy next to him all shared a sad and drained glance, making it seem as though this was not the first time something like this had happened.

“Please, I did not mean to-” Starscream was cut off again as his hair was grabbed and he was yanked up sharply. 

“You try the last of my patience. Everyone stay here and stay quiet,” Galvatron spat out as he began to drag the whimpering Starscream out of the same door Cyclonus and Arcee had left through. Starscream half resisting, half complying as to not get his hair ripped out. 

As soon as they were out of the door the floodgates opened and Skywarp began sobbing, pulling his legs up to his chest. Slipstream and the other boy went to immediately comforting him. Prowl couldn’t hear what was being said until Skywarp loudly yelled out, “yes, TC, it is my fault! If I hadn’t - laughed then - he wouldn’t have -” his sentence died out on another loud sob.

Prowl put two and two together. Starscream had used himself as a distraction to avoid any harm upon his friend. 

He began to feel his back hurting from sitting so stiffly for so long. As he listened to the sobs of Skywarp and others beginning to cry from the horrible events that had taken place so far he felt an overwhelming exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks. The day had been so emotionally intense already and it was only slightly after one o’clock. Prowl closed his eyes and began to pray to his Lord. He begged for help and strength, asking why he had been brought here. Was he so far gone that the only way he could be returned to grace was to be beaten there? He jumped hard as someone plunked into the seat next to him. He opened his eyes to see who had suddenly interrupted his prayer and noticed it was the beautiful boy who he’d noticed first walking in. His eyes widened before narrowing to a hard glare. He could not let his guard down around this one. 

“Can I help you?” Prowl asked coldly. 

The boy’s smile was gone. “Thought I’d try making some friends. Looks to me we’re gonna need ‘em.” His voice was low and smooth. 

Prowl clenched his jaw and swallowed harshly in reaction to the boy’s words. While he wanted to be wary of this young man, he couldn’t deny the truth in what he’d said. Friends may be his only chance of survival and the boy next to him appeared to be of the stronger sort according to his reaction and assessment of the afternoon’s events. Not even Prowl could say he’d reacted so little to the tumult.

“Prowl,” he said, making eye contact with the boy for the first time. His eyes were dark and shadowy, implying he wasn’t truly as unaffected as he’d seemed.

“Nice ta meet ya Prowler, I’m Jazz,” the boy replied, offering his hand for a shake.

Prowl glanced at the proposed hand and back to Jazz’s face before taking his hand for a firm shake. Jazz’s hand was strong and rough, but simultaneously careful and deliberate.

Prowl gave a short nod before facing front again so as not to get caught socializing when Galvatron came back. Jazz took the hint and moved back over to his former chair to sit, maneuvering swiftly.

By the time Galvatron came back, Skywarp had been quieted, but his eyes were red and puffy and the two with him had moved closer in comfort. He entered with Cyclonus and a short, plump man. Arcee and Starscream were nowhere to be seen.

Galvatron went immediately to the group. He looked calm; his knuckles were split open. Thankfully, the other three hadn’t noticed that little fact yet. Prowl wasn’t sure they’d be able to hold it together if they did. By the way Jazz tensed, hardly though it was, Prowl could tell he had noticed as well. Prowl approved of his observation skills while wondering what had made such attentiveness necessary in Jazz’s life.

“Skywarp, was it?” 

The boy looked up when addressed and nodded, “yes, sir.” His voice was strained and high with grief.

Galvatron nodded harshly and moved on, sparing him for now. He stepped to the side and stared down at the one previously called “TC.”

“And you?” 

“Thundercracker, sir,” he spoke obediently and with submission; not because he wanted to, but because he knew he had to.

“And can you tell me why you’re here?” His voice was like poisonous honey, smooth and threatening.

“I am here because I-” he stopped, trying to find the right words to carefully keep the tyrant’s rage at bay. “Because I have sinned and need to pay for the act.” His words were forced and he stared straight ahead, seemingly detaching himself as he spoke.

Galvatron developed a slow, cold, sinister smile. “Good,” he purred.

Further introductions were made. Everyone’s words were clipped and careful, terrified of inscensing the recently settled man’s rage.

Finally, it was Prowl’s turn.

As the intimidating man approached, Prowl made eye contact. A move he hoped portrayed brevity without disrespect. Galvatron simply laid his eyes on him in a silent command to speak.

“My name is Prowl,” his voice came out dry and rusty due to his long silence up to this point. He cleared his throat quickly. When met with silence he assumed he was meant to continue. “I am here because I’ve strayed from the path of God and need help being lead back there.” At the end of his sentence he broke eye contact to lay his gaze on the floor in front of him.

Galvatron moved on from Prowl with a dismissive but assessing gaze. Prowl was finally able to breath easy as he watched the feet in front of him move away without a confrontation.

He looked up as the room’s stalking predator moved on to his next victim. He reached Jazz and scowled down at him with clear distaste. 

Jazz’s smile had reclaimed it’s place on his face, but was distinctly more predatorial now. Jazz also made eye contact, his gaze hard and challenging while his posture remained relaxed.

“I’m Jazz,” his tone had changed to one far less friendly than what Prowl had been greeted with. “I’m here because it’ll make my adoptive parents happy, and I owe ‘em one for taking me in.” 

Galvatron’s glare hardened, seeming almost disappointed. He must have been expecting a more disrespectful answer from one of the few colored campers in the room. He moved on again without incident, stopping at the final young boy and last guarded introduction. This boy was even darker than Jazz and couldn’t be older than thirteen at the most. His eyes were wet with tears and his feet dangled from his chair as he swung them nervously. When Galvatron stopped in front of him, one of the boy’s legs accidentally kicked Galvatron’s shin. Before the boy could even process his error, he’d received a right hook to the face and ended up on the floor with a cry. Prowl closed his eyes, tired of the violence and wishing to God he didn’t have to see more.

“Cyclonus! Jhiaxus! Get the heathens to their damn cabins,” Galvatron spat in fury as he stomped out of the room. 

The second Galvatron had left the room, Jazz was out of his seat and helping the boy on the ground. He was crying as quietly as he could as Jazz asked his name in hushed tones. “Bumblebee,” he managed, Prowl only barely being able to hear the choked whisper.

“Alright then, ladies, follow me if you will,” the shorter man, presumably Jhiaxus, requested as he headed out the front door. Slipstream along with the few other girls followed Jhiaxus at a cautious pace. Skywarp and Thundercracker watched Slipstream go with visible anxiety as she strode forward with well-concealed trepidation. 

“Gentlemen,” Cyclonus said with a tone implying they follow.

Everyone stood, Jazz helping up young Bumblebee. Prowl waited until they had gone ahead before falling in behind them, hoping to supply support in the back so Jazz could get Bumblebee to the cabin safely. Jazz caught Prowl’s eye over his shoulder and Prowl gave him a reassuring nod as they followed Cyclonus out of the lodge.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dedicating the entirety of this work to my grandpa Jerry. <3


End file.
